Ghosts of the Pines
by THXXX11138
Summary: Dipper returns to Gravity Falls to find something he lost years ago. Little does he know, someone else is looking for the same thing. Along the way, Dipper meets old faces and the memories of his childhood, while kindling something else. Older WenDip
1. A Sunny Summer Day

Chapter 1

Mason Orion "Dipper" Pines placed his tools down and reviewed his work. Before him was a giant wind turbine designed to produce energy from the natural forces of the earth. Behind him, the rolling yellow hills of the Altamont Pass was checkered by the rotating fans, spanning for miles in all directions.

Pulling out a laptop, Dipper made quick note of his repairs before reaching into a denim pocket and pulling out a pair of gloves. Placing the gloves over his hands, Dipper walked inside the center of the turbine and pulled a huge master lever controlling the intricate gearing of the machine. Slowly, the repaired workings turned the center shaft, which rotated a giant magnet around a column of copper. Lifting his head, Dipper could only grin as the turbine came back to life. Satisfied with his work, Dipper picked up his toolbox and walked out of the center column of the turbine.

Closing the door behind him, Dipper sighed and looked around. The California Central Valley laid before him in brilliant clarity with a healthy blue sky. In the distant, the dark blue silhouette of the Sierra Nevadas laid low in the horizon and the open fields.

The young mechanical engineer took a deep breath before returning to his pickup down the dirt path. At twenty-nine, Dipper had found remarkable success at his work. Graduating years before with honors from ITT Tech in Oakland, California, Dipper managed to find a job in the maintenance and repair of the huge wind turbines in California. Every day was an adventure. Sometimes he would be dispatched for weeks out on the coast, while others he would be sent to Southern California to personally review and test potential future equipment.

Finally arriving at his company issued truck, Dipper hoisted a big arm over the side and placed his tool chest into the bed. Before entering the vehicle, Dipper stopped and quickly viewed his reflection in the driver side window.

His appearance had changed greatly over the years. His hair was still thick and unruly with chocolate colored curls, yet his shoulders had broadened greatly and his arms had gained in size. His face had slowly developed a squarer shape before high school, and by graduation; he was sporting a full beard. His mahogany colored eyes still had the characteristic bags underneath from many sleepless nights, while his nose had acquired a familiar red bulbous shape. Chucking, Dipper opened the door to the old Chevy with a smile.

 _"_ _I look so much like Stan and Ford," he chortled under his breath._

Flopping behind the wheel, Dipper leaned back and reached for a water bottle behind his seat. Cracking the seal opened, he tipped the bottle up and took a hefty gulp.

"Stan and Ford," he thought to himself. "When was the last time of thought of them?"

Reaching for his jacket draped across the passenger side, Dipper took out a brown wallet and cracked it open. Inside were pictures of him and his twin sister. One picture caught his attention. It was a picture of himself, his sister and their two Grunkles. The picture showed Stan shooting his sister's grappling hook into the air while hoisting himself and Ford into the trees. The pictured captured the surprised look of the two young children and Ford as a triumphant Stan picked his twin up into the trees. Bellow, scribbled in black pen, was **_Gravity Falls, 2012._**

"Gravity Falls," Dipper announced to only himself. "Gravity Falls, Oregon."

How long had it been?

Dipper lifted his head and made a mental count of the years.

"Seventeen years, I can't believe it."

Dipper laid the wallet down and peered out his windshield at nothing at all, taken back by the passing of time. So much has changed since that fateful summer. Both He and Mabel had grown up, graduated college, and now were working. The sudden realization hit him hard as he concluded the obvious: he had grown up.

Slowly the memories began to flood his mind, intoxicating him with the rich warmth of nostalgia. The magic, the trees, the wonder, the amazement, and the mystery. He recalled the warmth of that summer away from home. He smiled at the memories of walking though the temple like silence of the tress and ferns in the early evening light. He recalled the beautiful innocence of a lost love to a girl who worked for his uncle that summer. And finally, he came to the realization of how he and his sister arrived as children and left as young adults, ready for the adventure of growing up.

Immediately another fragment of the past came to him. It was the letter Wendy gave him…

" _Open this the next time you miss Gravity Falls…"_ A familiar voice said to him.

He placed a hand on his forehead as he recollected the curiosity he felt as opened the letter, and satisfaction that came with the discovery.

 _See You next Summer!_

Yet they never did.


	2. Talking to the Man

Chapter 2

The sun was slowly slipping into the west as Dipper cruised over the gothic structure of the Oakland-Richmond Bridge. All around him, the warm early summer air slipped into the cab of his truck as he released a weary yet satisfied sigh.

To the east, the purple tones of the evening coalesced with the rich hues of orange to the west. The sun was painted in a light red, casting a shadow across the dominant form of Mt. Tamalpais as Dipper climbed the final hump of the old iron gray bridge.

Smirking slightly, Dipper rolled down the window of his work truck and rested a browning arm on the ledge. Glancing at his forearm, he made note to bring sunscreen for tomorrow.

Putting the truck into low, Dipper took the Sir Frances Drake Blvd exit, and turned left towards the outskirts of town. The home office for his job was technically in the City, yet the lot containing the equipment and the truck dispatch was a little north, in the small yet bustling city of San Rafael.

Driving past a lumberyard, Dipper caught the stenciled image of a pine tree on a stack of yellowing wood.

 _"Another reminder of my past,"_ he thought to himself.

Swinging the truck around a corner, he pulled into the parking lot and placed his whip in its designated spot. **Utility Vehicle 618.**

Crackling the door open, Dipper stepped out and looked at the huge yard across the street. The lot was still filled with murmuring tractor-trailers, waiting anxiously to get unloaded, despite the darkening evening.

Once again, his eyes retreated to the huge stack with the red symbol. Mixed with the droning engines were the sounds of cutting blades bifurcating the lumber for future application.

 _It probably takes a small army of lumberjacks to fill all those orders_

Promptly, Dipper's mind receded into the past, remembering a certain young lumberjack with flaming red hair and a cool laid-back smile.

 _I wonder what Wendy is up to these days?_

Instantly, the front door of the little dispatch shack swung open and crashed with a clapping crack. A beefy man with a rotund stomach and a huge handlebar mustache sauntered out and placed his meaty hands on his hips. His graying hair was shaved into a crew cut, and his tanned arms showed signs of sun damage from years in the ravaging sun. Inhaling deeply, the aging foremen bellowed out across the yard in a thunderous roar.

"Pines, get into my office right now!"

Dipper's content attitude from the day's earlier success dropped. Lifting an eyebrow, Dipper leaned over and reached for his toolbox. Using the other hand, he got his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. The young man was not afraid of his boss, but concern was bubbling in his chest.

Stepping through the front door, Dipper was ushered into the utilitarian style office of his boss. Upon his table were two small statues of lions. Dipper nervously looked at the deadly expressions of the cats, almost symbolizing the impending ramifications coming towards him.

Walking behind his desk, Mr. Mackey groaned slightly as he settled into his chair. Bringing himself closer, Mackey entwined his fingers with both his hands and glared at Dipper.

"Dipper, you have drawn the concern of many people in this company. We have seen things that greatly displease us, and it must stop immediately."

Standing before his boss, Dipper returned the apathetic glare to his boss and responded with respectful confidence, "Mr. Mackey, I do not understand. I am always on time, I complete my assignments, and finish all the paperwork after my jobs."

Responding with a deep voice, Mackey stood up and rammed his paws onto the desk. The lions rattled in response and the floor shook with the force of the blow.

"That is not the point Dipper!"

Walking around, Mackey stood in front of Dipper. Age did not defer the powerful stance Mackey gave as he approached Dipper.

"That is not the point. There are responsibilities that you have failed with in this company!" To further reinforce his statement, the aging man tuned his left hand and slammed the back of his wrist against the open palm of his right.

Feeling his short temper staring to ignite, Dipper closed the gap between him and his boss until he was directly in front of him. Mimicking his employer's stature, Dipper placed his big hands on his hips and returned a frustrated and angered expression.

"Seriously? Then what? What did I do that was so terrible? I am already running circles around everyone else in your motley crew!"

Anchoring his hands against his hips, Mackey rolled his heels until he stood on his toes, and glared at his insubordinate employee.

"Dipper, I have received word from headquarters that you failed one thing that all our employees must honor."

"What?"

"Have you ever heard of time off or a vacation?"


	3. Dont Mess with Pines

Chapter 3

"Wait, what?" Dipper responded with both confusion and exasperation dripping from his words.

"Exactly what I said: Have you ever heard of time off?" Mackey's former dominating and demeaning tone was replaced with a warm laugh as he wrapped an arm around Dipper's shoulders. "Son, do you know how much PTO you got?"

"PTO?"

"Paid Time off. You know, the benefits of modern society? Today, I got one word from headquarter, get you off the clock ASAP!"

With that, Mackey gave Dipper a playful, yet powerful pat on the back before returning to his desk. Dipper's head shook from the sportive blow, making his thick-rimmed glasses to fall slightly off his face.

Motioning a disheveled Dipper to sit down, both men reclined in their chairs.

"Wait, can you please explain to me what is going on? Am I taking time off, or is this a wonderful way of firing me."

"Jesus kid, relax. My boss simply told me that you have over three months of PTO that you must use. You have the summer off, congratulations!"

"But what is going to happen here? What am I going to do?"

"Nothing, beside the fact I am going to lose my best employee for the next three months. I mean look at those clowns out there."

Turning his head around, Dipper saw his fellow coworkers using old paint cans as barriers while they dueled with paintball guns in front of their supervisor.

"See what I have to deal with for the next sixteen weeks while you are gone! Nothing will get done."

Outside, both men listen to the ricocheting sound of paint balls blatting against the walls and the cheers of the crew.

Sighing, Mackey leaned forward and pulled open one of his desk drawers, retrieving the torpedo shape of a cigar and a pocketknife. Slicing one end open, the big man placed one end of the cigar in his mouth while beginning to light the other with a Zippo lighter from his shirt pocket.

"And what do you mean 'what am I going to do?' Dipper, take off. Do whatever you want. Go on a trip, flirt with a girl, get laid, I don't care."

Exhaling, Dipper leaned back in his chair and allowed his defensive posture to relax. Breathing in, Dipper smelled the permeating whiff of tobacco drifting across the room.

Raising an eyebrow to look coy, Dipper pointed to his bosses' cigar and jested in an accusing voice, "You know, your wife has been worried about you high blood pressure. Ever thought of cutting back on the smoking?"

Removing the cigar from his mouth, Mackey looked at it before returning a mockingly forlorn and reflective face to Dipper. "Gee, I don't know, maybe I don't care."

Chucking under his breath, Mackey placed a large forearm on the desk before replacing the cigar into his mouth. Inhaling deeply before releasing a thick cloud of smoke, Mackey looked deeply at Dipper.

"Listen, kid. I know you don't like time off, but there is nothing I can do. You hit your limit. Now in the meantime, have fun. You're still a young guy, enjoy yourself. Go out and see the world or do something, because believe me, you may not have this chance again."

Dipper placed a hand under his chin and though about the sage words of his boss and the potential. Three months of paid time off. Three months of doing anything he wants while getting paid.

"You know, my Grunkle would have had a heart attack if he was given time off, while getting paid for it. Well, first he would need a heart before he could have an attack."

"Grunkle?"

"Yeah. My Great Uncle Stan. My sister and I spent a lot of time with him and his brother one summer."

"Then there you go. Go up and see him. One way or another, I don't want to see your pretty face until September the 1st got it."

Dipper looked towards his boss and smiled. Standing up, Dipper shot an arm towards his boss and shook his hand. "Alright, I'm on my way. Until next time."

"You got it, Dipper. You got it."

Walking out into the cooling evening. Dipper hitched up his tool box and started to walk over towards his car.

Suddenly, a paintball came whizzing past his face. Instantly dropping to the ground, the riveting sounds of paintball fire filled the air as Dipper placed both hands on top of his head.

Rolling over to one side, Dipper bellowed across the yard to his friends, "Hey no fair. I am defenseless."

Samantha, a girl with light brown hair and flowering tattoos running up both arms laughed and retorted, "Yeah, well it's what you deserve for leaving us here all summer."

Standing up and playfully raising his arms above his head to show mock defeat, Dipper sighed. "Hey, it wasn't my choice. I'm an innocent man."

"Yeah, well get loss already. We need this pace for our paintball war."

"Alright, alright." Leaning over, Dipper attempted to pick up his upside-down tool chest before being shoot in the rear by multiple guns.

Standing erect while placing both hands over his stinging buttocks, Dipper glared at the crew. Each member had hidden their gun behind their back while whistling different tunes, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Oh, it's okay! I love you guys too! See you all in the fall!" Dipper responded in a sing-song voice.

Dipper slowly limped, curtsey of the blossoming pain in his rear, to his black 1967 Impala Sport Sedan. Cracking the rear door open, Dipper threw the box in the rear before flopping into the driver seat.

"The indignity of walking away with a sore ass," Dipper gipped to himself.

Like lighting, an idea sprung into his head. Grinning, Dipper leaned over and opened the glove box door. Inside was a small red pomegranate shaped weapon. The tool designed to end his enemies.

Firing the small block Chevy to life, Dipper dropped the transmission into drive and turned for the exit.

Stopping before his friends, Dipper stepped out and turned towards his coworkers.

"Hey Sam, catch!"

Throwing the small weapon in the air, Dipper quickly retreated into his car and tromped on the gas. The screeching sound of tires and the roaring sound of exhaust rang though the air as Dipper floored his old sedan for the exit.

Sam managed to catch the small parcel in her hands and paled. In small letters, the grenade was signed in bold letters: **Mabel's Secret Weapon of Pain and Destruction.**

Dropping the grenade, Sam and the rest of the crew was meet with the exploding power of glitter and paint as the bomb erupted into bright tones of pink, purple, and cyan blue. All around, the yard was covered in radiating and sparking glitter.

Sam was the first to stand up and look around at the carnage. Shock was replaced with discuss as she tried to brush the glitter off her arms, only to realize that it was stuck on her skin.

"What the heck, this stuff is covered in glue!"

Quickly u-turning at the end of the street, Dipper leaned out his driver's window and yelled in resounding triumph, "See you later, Suckers!"

Mackey, surprised by the thunderous boom in his yard, walked out into the evening air and stopped. All around, his orderly yard was covered in a shower of glitter and tinsel. Anger started to pierce though his veins until looking at his remaining, dysfunctional crew. Each member was saturated with the sticky residue of Mabel's bomb.

The cigar dropped out of his mouth and landed on the ground as he knelled over, laughing. Heaving slightly in between, Mackey managed to address his bewildered employees. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm not cleaning this up. Good luck!"

Standing up and brushing his jeans from a few rogue specks of glitter, Mackey turned around and closed his door relishing at Dipper's farwell success.


	4. Dr Mabel of UC Berkley

Chapter 4

Dipper made a sharp turn onto the freeway as he floored his old Impala into the southbound lane, heading for San Francisco.

His heart pounded from the overwhelming sense of adrenaline coursing through his body. Taking a moment to breathe and relax, he reached down and cracked the window as he charged up the large rocky hill separating San Rafael and Larkspur. Resting his arm out on the windowsill of his blue sedan, Dipper toke a deep breath.

 _Three Months to myself. I could do anything._

As the big car started to reach a comfortable cruising speed, Dipper released pressure from the gas pedal and the automatic transmission shifted into its highest gear. Outside, the lingering warm spell entered the cabin of his car. Looking to the west, Dipper could see the massive silhouette of the big mountain, shrouded by the early evening sky.

 _I wonder what Mabel is doing.?_

As Dipper began to ascend the final hill before reaching Mill Valley, his thoughts continued to linger back towards his sister.

 _How long has it been since we talked? Two, three weeks? How long has it been since we've seen each other?_

With a dissatisfied hum, Dipper quickly turned sharply for the South Blithindale exit to turn around. Slicing through two lanes of traffic, horn blared and certain hand gestures were passed as the old Chevy crossed over and entered the exit lane.

"Stan would be proud," he muttered with a small grin as he began to descend into the exit.

Making the green light at the bottom of the exit, Dipper cut through traffic and merged into the approach lane for Northbound 101. From there, Dipper floored the Sedan down the curved ramp and entered the freeway.

 _Welp, next stop Beserkly._

Dr. Mabel Pines sighed as she leaned back on her desk chair and peered out into the evening sky. The chair gave a tired whine as she reclined into the old seat. Placing her Chuck Taylor clad feet onto a small brown filing cabinet; she extended one arm over to her adjacent desk as a makeshift armrest. In her hand was a mug; its contents filling the room with the rich smell of mocha.

Before her was a table littered in various forms, papers and self-written reminders for her approaching classes and responsibilities to the University. Her small office was a compact cubical in the massive school, yet it was brimmed with different forms of colors and art, ranging from the mundane to abstract. All around, the huge stacks of papers gave the impression of some foreign mountain range instead of a Professor's office.

The archaic boom box behind her was set to an 80's nostalgia station. Behind the static, the station was blasting out "And I Ran," by A Flock of Seagulls. Connected to her silver-dented radio were two wires spiraling out the back and sprinting like two symmetrical tightropes around the perimeter of the room to two ancient amplifiers above her door.

Removing her beat shoes off the cabinet, Mabel leaned over and picked up her Wayfarer Styled glasses and began to review her notes for next week's classes. Despite her full schedule throughout the workweek, Fridays were technically her day off. No classes and no time at the Museum of Fine Arts in the City.

 _Let's be a Teacher I said. No more homework I said. Yeah right, more like homework the job: life edition!_

A light bang against the glass in the door startled the brunette, making her jump. From behind the glass was a silhouette of obviously a man.

"Excuse me, Dr. Pines, may I ask you a question," the anonymous stranger asked from behind the door.

"Uh, of course, I'll be right there."

Crossing the room, she zigzagged through the mountains of art and papers, and approached the door.

"Sorry, what was your question?" she responded as she swung the door wide.

"Yeah, why haven't you been calling your only brother?"

Upon seeing her twin, Mabel squealed in delight and crashed into his arms. Picking his sister up, Dipper spun around clumsily for a second before returning his sister to the ground.

Stepping back and employing a playfully serious look and adapting a dramatic tone, Mabel looked her twin dead in the eye. "Oh really? Why haven't you been calling me? Hmm? Am I just another face in the crowd now? Rendered irrelevant by the qualms of life?"

"Very funny," Dipper replied with an eye roll and a smile.

Looking around his sister, Dipper was surprised by the eclectic state of his sister's office.

"Jeez Mabel, trying to recreate the Rockies in here or something? Even my room wasn't this bad in college!"

"Hey, you have no right to tell me how or how I shall not organize my office. In fact, this is a well-oiled machine."

Upon ending her sentence, one stack began to lean, colliding with another, creating a domino effect. All around the piles began to implode into flying clouds of papers, notes, food, and other office materials.

Cringing from the crashing din, both twin slowly opened their eyes. The room was a shamble with only the coffee cup somehow surviving the disaster.

Whipping away a bead of sweat running down her forehead, Mabel sighed. "At least my coffee made it."

From across the room, her mug teetered teasingly off the edge, before landing on the ground with a sharp crack.

Mabel gave herself a face palm before screaming into her hand.

Sensing stress radiating from his sister, Dipper walked over and closed the door to her office.

"How about we forget the atomic bomb that went off in your office and head off into town?"

Looking up and tilting her head to one side, Mabel examined her brotherly thoroughly, like the Art Specialist she was.

"Alright, what have you done to my brother and where is he? The real Dipper would never a) treat his sister to dinner, and b) take said sister on a week day."

Ginning and leaning against a wall, Dipper coolly responded, "Well maybe I don't need to worry about work tomorrow, or the next day. And probably the next month after that."

Gasping, Mabel reached out and clamped her hand around her brother's arm. Despite being stockier than Mabel, Dipper was spun around until his gaze was in line with her brown scrutinizing eyes.

"Alright, I know Ford said you had a lot of Stan's tendencies, but what did you do? Did you rob a bank? Win a horse race? Invest in a multi-flavor sprinkle factory that you will appoint me as president?"

"Wait, what? No," Dipper responded, blinking in disbelief of his sister's wild (and probably credible) accusations. "I just got the whole summer off."

"What? I knew you had savings, but I didn't think you had that much?"

"No, PTO. You know paid time off. I'm getting paid while taking time off."

"Ahh, boo!" Mabel retorted with a jabbing thumb to the ground. "Let me get this straight, I have to slave away, teaching brats the fundamentals of art, while you get to take time off. While getting paid!?"

"Uh, yes?" Dipper said while shrugging and trying to avoid Mabel deepening stare.

Slapping her open palms against her blue jeans, Mabel huffed. "Great, just great. You get to take off into the unknown while I'm stuck here!"

"Hey, that may or may not be true, but look at the bright side. You now get to have Dinner with your favorite and only brother on a weekday night." Dipper successfully sealed the deal by outstretching his arm while point his thumbs towards his person. "Come on, this never happens! Take it or leave it," he said in an enticing and lively tone.

"Fine, just wipe that grin off your face. I'm supposed to be the happy one." Mabel unlatched the door and purposely failed to consider her shambled office. After grasping her denim jacket, Mabel closed the door and locked it.

"Well Mabel, I can see your style is still unmatched by anyone."

Looking down, Mabel could see her bright white shirt splattered with paint and her faded blue jeans ripped slightly at the knee. Her messy hair was tied in a sloppy bun, while a few stray floccules crossed her line of vision

"Yeah, well at least I don't look Chuck Norris Jr."

Taking defense, Dipper placed a hand across the deep brown beard he now sported and glared at his twin's smug look.

"Okay, okay, I deserved that. Anything else?"

"Well, you still stink like your former twelve-year-old self, and also…"

Cutting his sister off with a grin, Dipper playfully pushed his twin forward towards the stairs at the end of the hallway and began walking.

Catching up with her brother, Mabel pounced unto his back and gave a sloppy kiss on a fuzzy check.

"Love you too, Bro Bro! And don't forget it!"

"I can't, your still a pain in my back."

Upon hearing her brother's derision, Mabel lightly poked her twin's right eye with a grin and her trademark "boop."

"Ouch, hey that hurts!" Dipper yelled as he covered his right eye.

"Oh it's okay Dipin' Sauce, you have another."


	5. The Young Student

Chapter 5

"I don't know Ernie, I think we left the sprinklers on the front lawn running too long," Burt told his fellow groundskeeper as they stood shoulder to shoulder in front of Gravity Falls' local Junior High. Together they watched the ground secretase mud colored water over the curb and into the gutter.

"Burt, don't worry, it'll dry up."

"I'm not so sure," Burt responded as he stepped into the thick mud their incompetence had created.

Placing a gentle arm across his shorter partner's shoulder, Ernie leaned over and faced his brother with a smile. With an extended arm, Ernie pointed towards the lawn with a flat palm, "Look, kids have eyes. When they see mud, they don't step in it! Use your brain. Of course, no one is going to step on the front law when they have a path cutting right through the middle. Now come on we have more important things to do."

"Like what?"

"Like punching the clock, get our last paycheck for the year, getting out of here, and head to…"

"The Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, In The Warm California Sun. Boardwalk!" They chanted in unison as they simultaneously fist punched the sky and ran towards their worn-out golf cart.

* * *

Kathleen Ann Courdoroy sat on the front steps of the recently refurbished Quentin Trembley Junior High, redirecting her attention from the large book in her lap to peer up at the sky. The clouds made slow passes across the light blue plains of the atmosphere as the girl repositioned herself on the concrete steps, waiting for her mother to arrive and whisk her away from her nine-month sentence at the local childhood citadel.

 _Come on Mom! You know the last day of school is a short day._

Lifting her right arm, she made a quick glance at her wristwatch while simultaneously pushing her thick-framed glasses with her left.

Behind her, the huge sandstone colored building reflected more of a prison than a school. The huge gothic slab was two stories tall with gargoyles flanking each side of the front stairs.

"Why the heck would they have gargoyles at a school?" she muttered to herself as she dove deeper in the thick mystery novel she was reading.

The young Corduroy possessed many familiar traits associated with the logging clan. She had her mother's pale skin, freckles, and radiant red hair, but terrible eyesight and bright blue eyes. From the second grade forward, glasses became a part of her everyday attire. Moreover her attire usually didn't change period.

Everyday, Kathleen wore the same outfit: blue jeans, black engineer boots and white T-shirts. During the wintertime, her attire was only altered by the application of a thick burgundy Carhart jacket. A hat never covered her head, but instead a thick braid that usually draped down her back or shoulder.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here girls."

Grabbing her book and placing it across her chest, Kathy reared up and turned around. Facing her was three of the social darlings of the school, Cindy, Brenda, and Megan. Beside their bloated popularity, the trio had one other thing in common; they enjoyed bullying the young Corduroy.

"Creepy Kathy is reading another one of her books," Cindy spat as she reached over and maliciously yanked the novel out of the Kathy's grip.

"Hey give that back!" Kathy retaliated as she tried to reach for her book.

"Oh you want it back, Okay! Here you go!"

The young instigator pushed the book into Kathy, causing the young Corduroy to drop it onto the ground. Like a flash, Brenda and Megan simultaneously grabbed her on both sides and tossed the redhead into the soggy front lawn of the school.

Kathleen cried in anguish as she looked over herself. Her crisp white t-shirt was splattered with mud, her jeans were soiled, and her boots were caked. Her face was covered in flecks of dirt and she felt her saturated hair dripping down her back.

Snickering with delight, Cindy leaned down onto her haunches, picked up the heavy piece of text, and grinned at the young girl's distress.

"Listen here Corduroy, you're nothing. No friends, bad taste in everything, big glasses! I mean look at yourself! You belong in the mud."

Standing up, Cindy looked over the cover of Kathleen book and laughed.

"The Case of the Missing Capers? Seriously, no wonder your dad left you and your mom," she said in a haughty, proud, and condescending tone before throwing the book into the mud beside the sniffling, mud covered girl.

Snapping her fingers, Cindy glanced over at Megan and pointed towards Kath's Backpack with a sharp, dagger like finger. A silent order was transmitted through her eyes: dump the backpack.

Megan walked over, and unzipped the backpack with a quick, practiced flick of the hands.

"No! Wait! Don't! Stop! Please!" Kathleen cried in vain as Megan picked the backpack up from the bottom and dumped Kathy's belongings into the bog in front of her.

Smiling in delight, Cindy faced her two henchmen, and together they laughed at their accomplishment.

Walking away shoulder to shoulder, the trio marched past Kathy as she tried to collect all her discarded, pens, papers, and textbooks into her violated backpack.

"Oh and Corduroy, don't forget what I said," Cindy said nonchalantly as she looked over her shoulder, "You're nothing. Have a nice summer!"

Kathleen eyes burned with tears as she watched the trio saunter down the street, laughing at their successful attack upon the young redhead.


	6. The Mother of the Girl

Chapter 6

Ashes of laughter…the ghost is clear…Why do the best things always disappear?

…Where have you gone?

\- Robbie Robertson

* * *

The silence of the woods was bluntly disrupted by the echoing roar of engine brakes as an ancient, but well maintained, Peterbilt 359 lumbered down a series of hills with a heavy load of fresh cut lumber.

"Come on baby, one more hill," Wendy yelled over the powerful din of the engine as she charged up the final hill. Taking a gloved hand, Wendy hit the accelerator while at the same time pushing the silver gearshift out of Eighth low, and shoving the knob forward into seven high.

The huge truck bellowed in response but continued to climb. Glancing down at the huge tachometer, she watched as the RPM's start to fall until it settled at 1400. Smoke poured out of the single stack behind the cab as the engine groaned a loud, yet low note.

 _Only thirty minutes late. No big deal._

As the truck inched up the steep grade, the rapid passing of the trees slowed until one could count them as the truck crawled up the hill. Wendy watched as the tach began to descend slowly again bellow 1200 RMP.

With a quick flip of a switch, the transmission shifted again to a lower gear. Upon acquiring the lower gear, Wendy tramped down on the old petal, causing the motor once again to scream out into the wilderness.

A neutral face began to transform into a triumphant grin as Wendy piloted the old needle nose over the hill and down the final crest towards the junior high. Outside she could see the familiar silhouette of her daughter on the front steps.

 _See no big deal. No probelmo._

Her proud smile dropped, as she looked closer at her daughter. Her clothes were soiled and caked with mud and her hair was stained from a rich auburn to a dull brown.

 _Oh no, what happened now?_

As the truck leaned towards the curb, Wendy pulled the air supply knob, dumping out the air out of the brake lines and causing the truck to lurch forward. In a quick swooping motion, Wendy jumped out of the cab, swung on the handle attached to the cab, and landed onto the street.

Walking over to her daughter, Wendy could see that she was staring down at the ground with her backpack between her knees. Along with her clothes, her backpack was saturated and still dripping onto the concrete bellow.

Reaching out a cautious hand, Wendy touched Kathy's shoulders while kneeling to her eye level. "Kathy? What's wrong? What happened?"

Kathy slowly looked up towards her mother. Her eyes were still red and sore from crying and her face was signed with a sad frown.

"Nothing Mom," she responded in a muffled voice, "let's just go home."

Wendy tilted her head, trying to assess her daughter's face for any sign. Anything that could tell what had happened.

"Dude, something happened. What happened to your clothes and your backpack?"

Once again Kathy retuned a low "nothing."

"Kathy, 'nothing' doesn't mean anything. Something obviously happened. Who did this to you?"

Without another word, the little girl picked up her ruined backpack and began to limp towards the huge red truck.

Wendy could only watch as her defeated daughter walked towards the big rig and slam into the passenger door with a loud bang.

Defeated, Wendy placed her hands on her hips. First looking towards her daughter and then towards the school itself.

 _What do I do now? No one ever prepares you for this._

Slowly Wendy began to walk back towards her truck. Her logger boots rattled the battery box on the driver side as she climbed back aboard the semi. With a belching cough, the big rig shuttered to life with a thick cloud of smoke.

Inching forward, Wendy began to increase the momentum of the big truck, grabbing gear with swift efficiency until reaching her intended speed.

All around as she piloted the huge rig down the road, she looked and saw friends coming together, basking in their newfound freedom for the summer. Talking, socializing, and generally having a good time. Outside, having adventures in their limited youth. And yet, here her daughter remained silent in her corner, only paying attention to the passing lines of the road and the blurring trees.

Upon returning home to their small cabin, Kathleen jumped out of the cab and raced for the front door. On the porch was a battered cardboard box with water stains and a thick coating of dust. To no surprise, Kathy simply ran by the box, opened the heavy wood door and entered the small cabin.

After shutting off the ignition and dumping the air out of the brakes, Wendy slowly, and methodically stepped down from her old whip. Inside, her head was brewing with concern.

 _I just got get her out of that house this summer. Let her get outside and have some fun, and maybe make some friends. Let her have a good time…_

Walking up to the front porch, Wendy squatted down and picked up the box. On the top was a scrawny note written in a hectic hand that could only belong to her father.

 **Dear Wendy,**

 **Went up north to visit cousins. Gonna show Uncle Hank and Leeland who the real man of the Northwest is! Found this while looking for my camping stuff, thought you would like it. Back in a few weeks. Maybe more. Make sure your brothers don't kill themselves up in the woods. Without a babysitter, who knows what will happen.**

 **Love Dad.**

 **P.S. Accidentally punched another hole in office and broke something else. Can't remember.**

Sighing with an annoyed huff, Wendy picked up the heavy box and kicked the door open.

 _Typical. Semi-retired, any he thinks he can take off right in the middle of cutting season. Just friggin' great! Thanks Dad, leave the responsibility of running a business with the only responsible one here._

Wendy's house was her childhood home. After her brothers had grown and moved out, Dan began living in the Airstream next to the Corduroy Family Logging office in their equipment and stockpile yard near the outskirts of town. After that, the house was abandoned until Wendy came back to Gravity Falls, with a young Kathleen in tote. It took an entire summer, but Wendy managed to recondition the old house, without help from her not so "willing to help" brothers.

Entering the kitchen, Wendy placed the box down and cracked upon the dry frail flaps. Inside were many mementos and reminders of her childhood. In one corner was a holster her father gave her for her first hatchet. Another was a hand-crafted wool hat her mother had made when she was just seven. Yet in the center of the pile was a battered old baseball cap with a faded symbol on the front.

Wendy sat down, bringing the old ball cap to her eyelevel, looking at the faded color of the bill and the many popped stitches of the back mesh. Holes made from many summers out in the Oregon sun and constant wear had caused the plastic to age and break apart. The pine tree symbol had spots were dirt soiled the once proud blue and the patch itself was beginning to peel away from the deformed crown.

Playing with the hat for a second in her hand, Wendy returned the battered cap onto the brown countertop of the table and stared out the window. Outside, the sky was beginning to change from afternoon to early evening. The receding sun made the trees stand out in shaded silhouettes and the world was bathed in a golden light.

 _I remember how summer was…_

Smiling lightly, she leaned back and guided her eyes to the top of the giant pines, watching the sky blend from orange and gold in the west to purple and blue to the east.

 _The adventure of growing up… The Mystery…_

Like a flash, a memory dashed through her mind like a bolt of light.

 _Dipper and Mabel Pines…The Mystery Twins…_

"How long has it been since I heard from them?" she announced to none but herself in the small room.

 _My last memory of those two was when the bus was pulling away,_ She thought to herself. _I remember Dipper and Mabel waving wildly as we all ran along side._

That next summer, Wendy waited patiently for the dynamic duo to return home to the Mystery Shack. Yet, as June turned to July, and then eventually August, there was no sign of Mabel and Dipper. In addition, the two Stans never came back to Gravity Falls after the summer of 2012. Ford and Stan took off into the wild blue wonder, exploring the world she last heard.

She recalled how the two little twins boarded the old dilapidated GMC Speedy Beaver bus, anxious to return. Yet they never did

To her it was funny how one thing led to another. One summer became two, then three, and soon life began to pick up. One minute she was preparing to get her driver's license, the next she was graduating. College turned into work, and one day in the spring of 2018, she became a mom.

Everything was different now.

The Shack had been closed for many years now. Soos successfully ran the Shack for over ten years, but by the time his fourth child was born, he knew that it was time to move on. The youthful sense of irresponsibility and fun faded with the growing obligation of being a father to a growing family. Now both Soos and Melody ran the local hardware store downtown, Ramirez Tool and Shop. Last fall they had their seventh child, Stanley Pablo Ramirez.

Many of her friends had either moved away or became enveloped in life. For example, Robbie and Tambry were still a couple and now lived near the Cemetery. Once Robbie's father retired, Robbie took over the family business at the local mortuary. Tambry became a communication consultant for a company in Portland, before moving her office to Gravity Falls

 _Let see. It's been seventeen years now. That means Mabel and Dipper are almost Thirty!_

The acute shock of realization blew her away. Her two little twins were now full-grown adults. They weren't her little guys anymore.

Once upon a time, she fantasized seeing them bounce off the old bus at the station, still young and ready to take the world by storm, one mystery and adventure at a time. But now they were both almost thirty.

Across the room stood a small mirror. Standing up, Wendy walked towards the glass and peered into the reflection. Her appearance had hardly changed over the years, except for the noticeable bags under her eyes from long work days, and the occasional stand of gray that streaked though her radiant red hair.

 _I missed everything,_ she though sadly to herself. _I missed them growing up!_

Walking back towards the table, Wendy dove deeper into the contents of the old box. Digging though the piles of papers and keepsakes, she found a framed photograph. Behind the glass stood three young teens standing in front of the Mystery Shack.

 _Oh yeah, the shack was like, rebuilt that year. Three times._

Wendy stood in the middle, and flanking both sides were two children that shared the same chestnut brown hair and sparkling eyes. The girl had a wide metallic filled grin while her twin gave a shy wave a sideways smile.

Upon inspecting the photo closer, Wendy smiled.

 _Dipper could never not blush when he was around me, huh?_

Of course she missed her little sister. Sometimes she regretted not being able to keep in contact with the spunky little girl, and being able to hand off advice about being a teenager and dealing with the complicated factors of life. But there was someone else she missed.

She never considered how close Dipper and her were that summer. Despite being two and a half years his junior, she could relate to him on a level that she could never attain with people her age. Another thing that struck her was the intense loyalty the boy showed to her, and the compassion he gave to her whenever she needed him.

He was her little man. Her little knight in shining armor, a person that would always put himself in harms way to protect her. Through the years, she was could never find someone of his caliber. And as time continued to move on, she forgot how special he made her feel that summer. That summer so long ago…

"I miss you little man. _My_ little man. I hope to see you again someday, dude..."


	7. A Girl and her World

Chapter 7

"Never Come Back Again"-Austin Plaine

* * *

Kathy emerged from behind the shower curtain in a cloud of steam and proceeded to wrap herself in a towel. Looking towards the tub, she could still see the streaks of brown that rimmed the bottom of the in faint streaks that ran perpendicular to the bottom. In one pile close to the door, her soiled clothes sat in a sad bundle, waiting to be taken downstairs to be washed.

Pushing her glasses onto her face, she peered deeply into the mirror above the sink. Her reflection showed all the features she remembered: blue eyes, pale skin, freckles and red hair.

 _Some Corduroy you turned out to be._

Leaning forward and anchoring her hands onto the sink for support, Kathy continued to look at herself.

 _Look at you, you stupid loser. A typical four eyed loner who has no friends. A stupid waste who dreams of stuff that doesn't even exist._

For years, Kathy loved the mystery of the unknown and the wonder of magic that existed in the world. Yet people ridiculed her interest, calling them childlike and false.

On the other hand, sometimes during the day, she could swear she saw things in the corner of her eye, skittering in the silhouette of the towering trees. Adults and friends always dismissed the notion that things lurked in those mysterious woods that dwarfed the little lumber town. Whenever she brought the topic to her mother, Wendy would try to divert the conversation to something else, like friends or school.

 _Like she is trying to deliberately avoid the topic. But why?_

Too bad no one wanted to befriend the nerd who always got straight A's and still believed in magic, monsters, and ghosts.

Cringing slightly at her own reflection with sad eyes, she exited the bathroom. Walking across the hall, she could hear her mother going through something downstairs.

 _The kid to the toughest woman in the Northwest, and yet you can't even defend yourself from a bunch of brats._

Closing her bedroom door softly, Kathy looked around her room. The small space was once her mothers'. To one side was a dresser with a few knick-knacks and a big roll top desk. Next to her bed was a large window that showed the woods surrounding their little cabin. Bordering all sides of the walls were posters of rock groups, monster movies and books.

"Here's to another summer alone, in my room," she though as she walked around the clutter.

Moving around the bed with bare feet, she walked up to one of the drawers and pulled out another white shirt, a pair of jeans, and some orange socks. After drying and dressing herself, Kathy pulled her long hair into a ponytail while leaving a few stay bangs flopping over her forehead.

Lying down on the bed, she looked up at the ceiling. Above her she could see the different tones and brown and gold of the huge planks that made her roof despite the darkening evening sky cascading into the room from the window.

 _How long have I sat looking at that ceiling?_

Rolling over to her bed stand, she reached out a picked up a picture. The photo was old behind the frame and fading from being in the sun so long. It showed younger Wendy Corduroy with a man. The male in the photo had straight black hair and blue eyes. He sported a thick goatee and wore glasses while making a silly face with an American Spirit parked in one corner of his mouth. Wendy leaned against the man's thick shoulder and gave a peace sign to the camera. Behind them was the Portland skyline and the old green St. John Bridge.

Kathy frowned while peering at the old photo.

Yet one question lingered in her mind: why did he leave. Was she good enough? Didn't he love her and Mom?

 _In the end, I guess it doesn't matter. He isn't coming back. Good thing I got mom. I am so lucky to have my mom_

Returning the old photo to its place, Kathy buried her head in a pillow and sighed. Slowly her mind started to slow as she slipped into a shallow nap.

* * *

It was dark when Kathy woke up. Beside her, the digital number on her clock read nine thirty. Getting up, she ran a little hand though her crimson locks and swung her legs over the side. Her stomach growled with a low rumble and her throat was parched.

Bouncing off the bed, she walked over to the door and moved down the old stairs.

Kathy walked down the stairs in her socked feet towards the living room. A few lights were on in the kitchen that illuminated the darkened living room. Walking around the corner, she could see her mother already asleep. He feet were resting on one arm while her head rested on an old cushion. To her side was a spiral notebook with scribbled notes about what needed to be done the next day and quotas that need to be met.

On the floor was a piece of paper with a broad and official looking font that read "Wakonda Pacific."

Bending down and retrieving the paper, Kathy quickly skimmed over the letter. Apparently, some big company wants her mom to supply them with lumber. In addition, they mentioned the possibility of a union strike approaching in the nearby future.

Raising a curious eyebrow, Kathy looked at the paper.

"Now why would they want mom to supply them with lumber. And what is this about a strike?"

Nudging her mother with a little hand, Kathy tried to awake Wendy. "Mom, you want to go to bed or do you want to stay here?"

Stirring slightly, Wendy mumbled, "Nah, I'll stay down here. You go to bed, alright?"

Sighing, Kathy delicately placed the letter down where she found it and turned around for the stairs. Arriving in front of a closet, she pulled out a home stitched quilt and began to head back downstairs. The quilt was worn and old with different patches that made a wild tapestry of sorts. One of the symbols was a pine tree.

Draping the quilt over her mother, Kathy leaned over and kissed her mother on the forehead.

"Love you ma. You don't know how much I do."

Her mother mumbled a half-made response before returning to her subconscious state.

After turning off the living room light, Kathy entered the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she took out the peanut butter on the top shelf and some jam. Closing the door with her foot, she took her supplies over to the counter top on the other side of the room and laid them down. After acquiring some bread, she made a quick sandwich and began turning off the lights in the old room.

As she was just about to turn off the final overhead, her attention was drawn to an old box sitting in the corner. On top was a battered truckers hat.

Picking up the hat. Kathy looked at it for a few seconds, noting the broken stitches and the fading patch on the front. Despite the age, she could tell someone had loved this hat for a long time and wore it even longer.

Yet something else drew her to that hat. The sad state seemed to scream for attention and love.

Turning her head, she saw her reflection in the window while looking out to the back yard. Putting the hat on her head, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on one leg, trying to attain a look of confidence and fearlessness.

Raising an eyebrow and offering a sideways grin to her reflection, she asked herself a simple question: "Who do you think you are? I'm Kathleen Corduroy, explorer of experience and wonder."

"Why pretend to be something you are not and can never be?" a little though floated in her head.

Sighing with a defeated huff, Kathleen returned to the counter picked up her food and finally doused the final light in the kitchen.

Before returning upstairs, she gave one last look at her exhausted mother and retreated up the stairs to her room.

Closing the door softly, Kathy took off the old hat and rested the cap and her sandwich adjacent to each other on her old roll top desk. Despite the conclusion of the school year, her work space was still cluttered with broken pens, papers, and novels.

Drifting her eyes up, she made a quick check of her mystery and adventure novels that stood on a large shelf above the desk. The books varied in size and color, yet shared one distinct characteristic. They were all worn with broken bindings and ripped covers from her voracious reading style. Inside each book were notes of character traits, story plot, and possible conclusions that were being orchestrated in the story.

Beside her bed was a battered acoustic guitar. The neck was a faint yellow and the body was once a dark redwood color. Covering the spots where the wood wore thin were stickers of her favorite bands. AC/DC was at the top left corner, Boston was plastered on the bottom, and a little UFO shaped symbol for ELO graced bellow the base of the neck. Other bands including Foreigner, Coldplay, and even Metallica were littered all over the old guitar in a wild kaleidoscope of shapes and colors.

Shrugging, she sauntered over to the bed and hopped back on the covers.

Kathy sat up straight and leaned her back against the knotted headboard of her bed. The scent of aging lumber emanated from the house filled her nose with familiar comfort as she picked up the little acoustic guitar. Looking down, she pressed her fingers against the stickers, feeling the different textures of the outlines.

 _Maybe this summer I can find a friend to look for stuff with me. It can be really anybody._

Leaning over, Kathy found her lucky guitar pick on top of the green bed stand beside her bed and positioned her fingers over the strings. Taking a deep breath, she began to strum and pick a familiar tune she remembered her mom use to sing when she was little. The melody was soft with a sound that both evoked desire and wonder, while at the same time describing her depressed mood.

 **"I wanna see the world, I wanna sail the ocean**  
 **I wanna know what it feels like to never come back again**

 **I wanna feel the waves crushin' down on heartache**  
 **I wanna find the key to the sky and never come back again**

 **I wanna wake my soul, climb the highest mountain**  
 **I wanna write my name in the clouds and never come back again**

 **I wanna find my love, lose myself in passion**  
 **I wanna love her in my heart and never come back again**

 **I wanna see the end of a world that's rounded**  
 **I wanna know what it feels like to never come back again**

 **I wanna ease my mind of all the doubt that haunts it**  
 **I wanna run out in the light and never come back again**

 **I wanna see those stars shinin' down from heaven**  
 **I wanna know what it feels like to never come back again**  
 **I wanna know what it feels like to never come back again."**

At the end of the song, Kathy looked out to the trees behind her window. From above she could see the faint dots of the stars against a dark navy blue sky.

* * *

To the south, over six hundred miles away, someone found a reason to head north. To him, he was coming home.


	8. A Gift from Two Stans

Chapter 8

 _11 Years Earlier_

"Stanley," Ford yelped in a slightly higher pitch as his twin brother sawed through thick traffic while barreling down the I-80 in the heart of downtown Sacramento.

"Come on Sixer, you act like you have never seen me drive before," Stanley replied with a laugh and a wide grin as he cut off another car. Behind them, hand gestures were handed out and horns blared in indignant blasts

"Stan, I did not live to navigate through multiple dimensions just for my own brother to kill me on our way to a graduation!" Ford retorted while extending his arms to emphasize his point

"Shesh, relax. I haven't gotten us killed yet, have I?"

"Now that I recall, that one time you attracted Big Foot with jerky did not help."

"Hey, the big boy was hungry. How was I suppose to know he didn't like Jalapeno flavor?" responded Stanley with another kick of the wheel.

"Look, I do not believe a double funeral is a good addition with a High School Graduation!"

"Oh come on, my driving is not that bad. Oh, hold on," Stanley roared as he cut off a giant semi. Behind them, the rig slammed it's brakes with a heavy shudder and a roaring cry of the horn.

"Stanley, if we die on this road today, I will personally haunt you in whatever hell or afterlife you end up in."

"Hah, well at least we will be together." Stanley beamed as he socked his brother playfully in the shoulder.

Giving his brother a sideway grin, Ford leaned back and pulled forward a little wrapped box. On the tag in Stanley's awkward childlike hand was "Happy Graduation You Knuckleheads."

"I hope the kids will like our gift," Ford sighed.

"Yeah, if they can open it!"

Furrowing his brows, Ford turned his head to face his brother's profile. Stan's face beamed with a silly grin as he continued to pilot the old maroon Cadillac down the road.

"Stanley? What exactly do you mean?"

"Well, I thought opening a gift would be too easy. So I put their gift inside a puzzle box I had made."

"What? Why would you do that?"

"Because I'm a jerk. Hah," Stanley laughed as he gunned the Stanleymobile towards a fork in the highway. Ford grimaced and held onto the dash as Stanley crossed though four lanes of traffic with elegant ease towards the Westbound road. Behind them cars swerved and the cacophony din of angered drivers began to dissipate as Stanley hit the throttle and peeled forward.

Breathing heavily, Ford whipped his head around and looked back at the damage his brother had inflicted on the morning commute.

"Stanley, do you have any consideration for the people trying to navigate to work?"

"What, I'm giving them a little excitement. I'm doing them a favor by dishing out a little deviation from their pathetic work lives."

Sinking back into the seat, Ford returned his sights on his brother. "Alright Stanley, who made the box?"

"Oh, just that crazy watch-making magi we met when we were in Switzerland looking for the abdominal snowman. Boy, can that guy make a watch."

"Augh, Hans. Oh yes, I remember him." Weeks before, the two had been in Europe looking for a Yeti when they got trapped in a small cabin with a hermit who made watches. Not only did Ford deal with his wild banter; he also had to protect the three of them from a creature who sought vengeance for his burned taste buds.

"Anyways Poindexter, while you were protecting us, I had old Hans build me a box that can only be opened by a certain way."

"Exactly how, Stan?"

"Oh, let's just see how much our twins learned from their good ol' Grunkle Stan! Oh look, dead man driving," Stanley yelled as he cut off yet another car.

"Stanley, how exactly have you not had your license suspended?"

"Oh I have my ways. Plus, Wendy's little friend Tammy, or Tabby, or something, knows how to hack into Police data systems. Man, imagine had I known that earlier. We could have broken the stock market, rearrange foreign currency, you know the basics."

"Maybe it was a promising idea we left Gravity Falls. Less minds to corrupt." Ford said with a defeated sigh at his slightly younger brother. Despite turning seventy, Stan was still extremely sprite for his age.

"Hah, you wish. I already taught Dipper how to crack locks and rob banks. Boy, for someone who is so like you, it is nice to know he has some of my traits!"

"I am going to pretend I did not hear that. Now how hard is this puzzle box you are giving the twins. You know how important this girt will be for them."

"I don't know, let's see how long it takes them to figure it out. Wanna make a bet who is going to **crack** it first?"

 _Almost eleven years to the day, the Twins were finally able to open the enigmatic gift from their beloved uncles._


	9. The Key and an old Gift

Chapter 9

 _I'm going up the country, baby don't you wanna go  
I'm going up the country, baby don't you wanna go  
I'm going to some place where I've never been before_

 _I'm going, I'm going where the water tastes like wine  
I'm going where the water tastes like wine  
We can jump in the water, stay drunk all the time_

 _I'm gonna leave this city, got to get away  
I'm gonna leave this city, got to get away  
All this fussing and fighting, man, you know I sure can't stay_

-Canned Heat "Going up the Country."

* * *

"All right Mabel, I drank just as much as you did. Now why am I carrying you?"

Dipper was carrying Mabel on his back down the darkening streets of Berkley. To the east the stars were beginning to pierce through the haze of the city lights and the softening hues of pink and purple glazed the horizon, leaving a blue outline of the city across the bay.

"Because big brothers always help their little sisters. Besides, you could use the workout. I mean look at that paunch you're starting to get. In the end I'm helping you."

"Right," Dipper responded with a sideways grin and an eye roll. "Guess that makes me the Alpha Twin."

"No, the title is still held by me, thank you very much. And besides, we are technically the same height. Therefore, I am still the dominant one of the two," Mabel retorted with mock haughtiness.

"Oh really, because it seems to me you are too weak to walk. Therefore, you must relinquish you're title and become the Beta Twin." Dipper said, copying his sister's false tone.

"Ah, shut up you big boob. I know you'll never take away something that obviously belongs to me," Mabel shot back as she wrapped her arms around her Brother's neck.

"Okay, Okay you win." Dipper wheezed as he playfully tried to buck his sister off his back. Dipper stumbled a little with his chocking load as he wobbled to the entrance of Mabel's little house on the hill.

The house Mabel rented was a small wood framed cottage near the UC Berkley Campus. The front was painted a mundane white while the roof-line and the sides were splashed in color. Adjacent to the home was a little garage that kept Mabel's VW camper bus and art supplies.

Mabel bounced off her brother and ran up the concrete stairs that led to the elevated front lawn. Meanwhile, Dipper sauntered over to his big black sedan and unlocked the front passenger door. Removing his jacket, Dipper threw the coat into the cavernous interior and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

"Come on slowpoke, I got to show you my latest creations." Mabel roared across the lawn from her front porch.

Shaking his head with an amused grin, Dipper hopped up the stairs and met his twin at the front door.

"Alright." Dipper was prepared to be amazed by the wonderful, albeit somewhat strange creations of his twin.

After an hour of Mabel explaining the unique nature and meaning to each one of her recent projects, both Twins eventually landed on an old green couch that blatantly sat in the middle of the crowded living room.

Mabel quickly hopped off the couch and disappeared around the corner to retrieve two beers from the kitchen. In the other room, Dipper could hear the familiar cadence of his sister's feet and the light distant sound of the refrigerator opening and closing.

Upon scanning the room with his sharp, alert eyes, Dipper asked his sister about two certain old men.

"Any words from Grunkle Stan or Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper yelled to his sister.

From the other room, Mabel's voice returned. "None. Apparently, they went on some crazy expedition into the Jungles of the Amazon. Fordsy wants to see if Aliens had contact with the Aztec or something. I guess he felt cell phones or any form of communication would deter any contact."

"But what happens if they need help or something."

"Psh, there is nothing those two can't get out of. Besides, they are probably having the time of their elderly lives right now."

* * *

 _Meanwhile in the Jungle._

"Stan, what did I tell you about not touching anything!?"

Despite running, the aging man rolled his eyes and shrugged. "What? It was golden. Was I supposed to just sit there?"

"Yes!"

The two began to slow down and leaned against opposing trees, heaving from their flight.

"Look Ford, just because I may or may not have accidentally touched their so called 'Gift From God' doesn't mean they will…"

His words were cut short as a long spear cut through the air and struck against the trunk just inches above Stan's head. With bulging eyes, Stan tripped over a root and landed hard on the ground.

Reacting with incredible speed, Ford jumped over and pulled his brother back to his feet. "It does not matter what your excuse is Stan. Right now we have a tribe after us."

Leaning over to look over his Brother's shoulder, Stan pointed a large finger behind his brother. "Oh, you mean those guys."

Instantaneously, the whole tribe exploded through the brush and surrounded the seniors with pointed spears and enraged eyes.

"Now look what you have done Stan!" Ford roared into his brother's ear.

"Psh, I'm not worried. Besides, I have had higher odds against me!"

"Oh yes, I do recall how your journey to Columbia was met with success."

"Eh, that was a fluke. Besides, I know just how we are going to get out of this!" Stan responded with a jabbing finger to the air.

Reaching into his pocket, Stan pulled out a quarter and hid the coin into the sleeve of his Army Surplus jacket. Approaching one of the natives and wrapping a burly arm around the dumbfounded and surprised solider with unusually calm grace, Stan announced to the crowd.

"So, who wants to see a few coin tricks!"

* * *

 _Thousands of miles away in Mabel's odd house of art._

"Dipper, I am sure they are fine." Mabel said as she reentered the room with two identical Lagunitas IPAs in her hands

Chuckling and leaning back into the sofa, Dipper ran a hand though his unruly hair. "Yeah, your probably right."

"I always am buster. I got a doctorate after all," she replied with a soft laugh and another sip from her beer.

"Yeah in art. But then again I guess no one thought you were going to be the one who graduate from a prestigious college." Taking one of the bottles from his sister, Dipper took a quick sip before gagging against the sharp taste of the beer.

"Mabel, I know you are an artist, but how do you drink a beer like this?"

"It's an acquired taste. Besides, remember that one-time Stan gave us our first drinks when we turned sixteen."

Dipper cringed as he recalled the night Stanley had introduced the two to Fireball Whisky.

"Man Dipper, when you swallowed that shot, I thought you were going to die! You were coughing and sputtering like a Mack truck."

Socking his sister playfully in the shoulder with a smug grin, "Yeah, but you didn't hold out as well either."

After the both stopped laughing, the two leaned back and continued to drink their IPAs.

"Oh Dipper, by the way, Mom gave me something to give to you." Despite slugging down the stout beer, Mabel sprung off the couch with ease and sprinted to her bedroom.

Mabel quickly returned from the other room with a box. Stenciled in crooked lettering was "Dipper's Things."

"Mom and Dad were going through your old room and piled up all the stuff they thought you wanted. Oh, and by the way, Mom made your room into her new craft center."

Mabel deposited the box onto the dining room table with a thunderous boom, ignoring her brother's cringing face as the tinkle sound of broken items echoed in the room.

"Welp, hopefully that was not something I wanted to keep," Dipper said as he cracked open the dry, ancient lids of cardboard.

The insides were littered with remnants of his childhood, ranging from video games to pictures. Yet prominently standing in the center were two items. One was an obsidian black box with intricate cravings laced into the sides, and the other was an old gift from the past.

Delicately, Dipper removed the old logger hat from the box and held it in his hands. Despite the years that had past, the hat still retained a sense of dignity. Stitches were begging to fray, and the soft lining was starting to fall out, yet the hat retained it's shape, and it's meaning.

 _"Something to remember me by,"_ a ghostly voice echoed in the back of his mind.

"Hey look, it's Wendy's old hat. Remember, when we got back from Gravity Falls. You would wear that old thing everywhere," Mabel said softly as they both cast their eyes on the old cap.

"Yeah, I know." Looking towards his sister, Dipper sighed. "Remember that summer we had back then? The wonder, the mystery, the fun? Why didn't we ever go back?"

Mable sighed and placed an arm behind her back while holding onto to the other. "Well Dipper, we kind of grew up. I mean, you got involved in your nerd stuff and I had my own crazy things to do. One thing led to another, and I guess, it kind of happened. One summer became another, and soon enough we were out of high school and leaving home. Why do you ask?"

Dipper returned his eyes to the hat before looking towards the huge bay window against the far wall. From his vantage, he could see the orange glow of the street lamps and the glowing mass of the City to the west.

"I don't know. I was working today, and suddenly out of the blue, I thought of Stan. And eventually, I thought of Gravity Falls. And the fun we use to have with our friends. Remember?"

Upon hearing her brother's statement, Mabel squinted her eyes and grinned with a coy smile. "Oh really. Are you sure you weren't thinking of a certain redhead while you were at it."

"Mabel, please. It's been years. I haven't seen Wendy for almost two decades, and of course I thought of her. And why are you looking at me with that smile?"

"Oh, I don't know," she relied with an eye roll and a toothy grin. "Maybe it's a woman's intuition."

Reaching over with a sun kissed arm, Mabel grabbed the old hat and plopped it down over Dipper's head. Startled, Dipper titled the old trapper hat up from over his eyes and glared at his sister.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"What, you were looking at it too long. But man, you sure look like a lumberjack now."

Turning around to face the huge living room window, Dipper scrutinized his appearance. Despite being 5'9", he had defiantly acquired quite the build from his boxing days in college. In addition of the beard, he looked like a strange crossover of Grizzly Adams, and maybe a smaller version of Manly Dan.

"Oh, I know just what you need now!" his sister squealed as she ran towards her bedroom, again leaving a startled Dipper.

After a few moments of combing through her room, she reemerged with a wool burgundy collared shirt. "Put this on Dipper," she cheered as she threw the article of clothing to her dumbfounded brother.

"Mabel, where did you get this shirt?" he asked with a curiously raised eyebrow.

"Oh, from one my many lovers. Never mind that last part. Just put it on."

With an annoyed huff, Dipper obeyed his sister's words and threaded his big arms though the sleeves. After buttoning up the front and rolling up the sleeves to bellow his elbows, Dipper stood in front of his sister. "Happy now?"

Mabel's eyes grew big. From her Brother's vantage, he saw that old look he dreaded sometimes: Mabel was concocting some wild notion.

"Bro, listen. I know this may be crazy, but this could be a sign. I mean, thinking of that summer in 2012, finding Wendy's hat. Isn't it obvious. You need to go up to Gravity Falls!"

"Mabel, are you crazy? What am I going to do up there? I have my own life down here. You know responsibilities." He emphasized with outstretched arms and a "isn't it obviously I do not want to go" look on his face.

Mabel blew a raspberry before continuing her idea. "What? I see this as a golden opportunity. You have three months off, a car, and you have no girlfriend to tie you down. It's perfect!"

Dipper's eyes widened upon hearing "girlfriend." Finally, it dawned what his sister's true intentions were.

"Mabel, Wendy and I are not getting together."

"Ugh, come on. It's perfect. It's like a romance novel: ancient love that is rekindled from an unexpected visit. Why not? And besides broseph, age is really not a matter anymore."

"Well, first, I was the only one who had romantic intentions, let's get that clear. Second, it has been a long time. Wendy could be married for all I know. And seriously, how is this going to work?" Dipper rolled his eyes before acting out the possible scenario. '"Hey Wendy, remember me, that awkward kid who could never take his eyes off you. I know, right. Yeah, so I found this old hat of yours and suddenly had the desire to see you again.' Yeah Mabel, that is going to go over well. And besides that, where am I going to stay for three months in the Pacific Northwest?"

Mabel shrugged and sauntered over to the cardboard box on top of the table. "I don't know maybe the opportunity will come."

Peering down into the box, Mabel's eyes caught the raven black gleam of the old puzzle box their Grunkles gave them. Tossing it in the air and catching it in her palm, Mabel grinned. "Here, catch!"

Dipper fumbled as he tried to grasp the little black box, but missed. The treasure bounced on the floor before a resounding crack echoed in the living room. Both twins looked at each other as they simultaneously turned their sights to the box.

The top of the box revealed a hinge that had cracked open from the fall. Spilled out on the floor were a note and a dull yellow key.

"Mabel, you did it!"

"Yep, what can I say? When all else fails, spontaneous energy and luck always saves the day." Mabel responded as she placed her fists of her hips and made a superhero stance.

Retrieving the spilled gifts, Dipper first opened the note. A broad smile morphed onto his face as he read the note aloud to his twin.

 **"Dear Knuckleheads, I am glad you two figured out how to open this box. When smarts don't help, throwing it may offer a different repose. Don't try that though in real life. Anyways, Sixer though money may be a good graduation gift. Therefore I am overriding his suggestion and giving you two the Shack. Congratulations you two. Anyways, call me or something when you crack open this box. Hopefully I will still be around. Then again, I am more fit than my brother, so I am obviously bound to outlive him. – Love Stan."**

Wrapping an arm around her sibling, Mabel smiled and mimicked her brother's earlier words. '"Oh, and besides that where am I going to stay.' Dipper, I think you found you're home for the next three months. Now what do ya say?"

Turning his neck with an annoyed frown, Dipper sighed. "Sometimes I wonder how these things happen in your favor, dear sister o' mine."

In complete contrast, Mabel smiled with a cheery voice, "Hey, it's all about being Mabel. I'm magic."


	10. I Turn to Stone

Chapter 9

Turn to stone when you are gone  
I turn to stone I turn to stone  
When you are gone I turn to stone  
Turn to stone when you comin' home  
I can't go on turn to stone  
When your are gone I turn to stone.

-ELO

The moon rose high above the peaks of the trees as two young trespassers entered the Quinten Tremebly Jr. High grounds. Above them, the big sphere was full and bright, casting long shadows across the cool ground. On such a night, few stars can compete against the light glow. All around the perimeter of the school, the street lights were bathing the land in a soft, eerie yellow glow as flies danced across the beams.

Jacky never considered himself a vandal. Yet at the same time, he enjoyed the thrill of surreptitiously breaking the rules. His friend Martin on the other hand, was the opposite. Notoriously known as "The Demon," any form of crime surrounding the Gravity Falls High School district could be traced back to the young recidivist. Already at sixteen, he had been arrested for a slew of crimes ranging from vandalism to shoplifting.

Martin stopped before his friend and took in a deep breath, marveling at the school like an artist before his muse. Jacky watched his skinny friend comb his fingers through his long black hair before tittering at the endless potential of the night. Despite the warm night, Martin was wearing jeans, a worn leather jacket, and boots.

"Alright Jackie-O, here's what we are going to do. We are finally going to do a service to this school. Brought the hammers?"

His big blonde-haired friend grinned in response. In each hand was a twenty-pound sledge hammer.

Playfully punching him in the should, Martin laughed. "Good, See those Gargoyles over there? Let's say, we turn them into rocks."

Martin shot a mischievous smile to his partner in crime. As they strode to the two giant statues, Jacky handed Martin his weapon. Both statues were on their fours, facing forward into oblivion.

A cold sensation began to seep into Jacky's soul as he creeped towards one of the huge statues. The claws resembled talons of an eagle ready to claim. Both arms and legs looked tight and chiseled, prepared to pounce and attack. Peering into the detailed face, he could see the fine ends of the fangs dripping with the evening dew.

 _Looks more like he is drooling; hungry almost…_

Yet the most haunting look were the red eyes. Beady, soulless orbs of stone that glared with icy intensity.

Snapping his head towards his accomplice, Jacky could already feel the sensation of being utterly vulnerable. "Hey, Martin," he whispered into the dark night. "When did they paint the eyes red?"

Snorting, Martin responded, "What are you talking about?"

Jacky flipped his head back to the gaze of the monster. The eyes were now gray.

"Martin, I have a bad feeling about this."

Smiling, Martin gave Jacky a wicked grin before laughing at his bewildered friend. "What, little scared."

"No! I'm just saying maybe we can find something else to do?"

"Oh yeah, come on Jack. I thought you were one the toughest men around. And yet you are frightened by nothing," Martin returned mockingly.

Martin turned around and was ready to swing when he stopped mid-way. Goosebumps were spreading over both of their bodies as they gazed at the target. Both could have sworn the stature was not on his haunches when they arrived. Now the creature looked like a dark god, tantalizing his prey and towering over Martin. With eyes bulging, Jacky looked back and screamed. His stature had turned its head, staring directly at the both.

Suddenly, the street lamps went off.

Jack yelped before falling backward and landing into the muddy front yard of the school. Regaining his composer, Jacky stood up before falling forward, covering his face in quagmire. All around the night was quiet except for the whisper of the trees.

Promptly the lights came back on. Lifting his head and whipping the crud from his eyes, Jacky's blood ran cold. Martin was gone and both statues had returned to their original position.

"Martin," Jacky cried out hoarsely into the empty night, "where are you?"

The only response was a cool breeze.

Panic began to pound through his soul as he desperately tried to regain his footing. But every time he landed into the mud again.

Alarm became terror as he turned his head back towards the gargoyles. Only one of them remained. The other base was empty.

Crying out, Jacky clawed towards the sidewalk. Rolling out onto the cement, Jacky felt pebbles digging into his arm as he desperately made the effort to stand up. Looking back, the air in his lungs seemed to have vanished.

Both Statues were now gone.

Straining to regain composer, Jacky ran back to his car. From the tree line, he felt like someone was watching him with ravenous eyes, waiting for him to flounder. Tripping on a piece of broken concrete, Jacky landed hard on his side, his head slamming hard into the side of his car. His mind felt like it was spinning. The last thing he saw before slipping into subconscious was two silhouettes towering over him as a cold grainy hand grabbed one of his arms.


End file.
